The Nightmare Before Midnight
by Chloe Winchester
Summary: D-Dean..." The line went dead. Sam's turn for the boredom chronicles. Hurt!Sam Protective!Angsty!Dean Sequel to The Nightmare Before Dawn, ok to read without. NO WINCEST! Rated M for sexual abuse
1. Chapter 1

--Yep, sequel! Sam's turn! Once again, concocted from boredom!--

**The Nightmare Before Midnight**

"_Sammy…Sammy, help me."_

_Darkness…silence…Pain…_

_Castiel,_

_Surrender_

_-Alastair…_

"_This is my fault, it's all my fault."…_

"_Cas, no."… _

"_Not that, please, not that!"…_

"_I can heal you…" _

"_Please…"_

"_I'll take it to the grave…" Alastair said._

"_As will I." Said Uriel…_

**2 months later…**

"D-Dean." The line went dead. That was all the message said.

"Sam? SAMMY?!" Dean screamed into the lifeless phone. He slammed it shut and chucked it across the room. "No, no, no, no!" He looked around, helpless.

_Sammy, Sammy, Sammy, Sammy!_

Find him, gotta find him, gotta!

He dove onto the bed and grabbed his phone again, dialing Sam's number in a blur. It rang. He hung up.

If it was still on he could track it. He grabbed Sam's laptop, ignoring the twinge of pain he felt when he did.

A stupid phone call later with stupid lies told him where his little brother was.

In the middle of nowhere. Three hours away. Sam had already been out of his sight since last night. He fell asleep (_IDIOT!)_ And when he woke up this morning Sam was still gone.

It was supposed to be his turn for the food run, but he talked Sam into going instead. And now…Now…

Now he had to go find his car.

He walked outside, turning toward the diner he was sure Sam would have gone to. If only he could walk faster. If only he could sprint down the road as fast as he could without anyone looking at him funny. Or calling the police. Or asking him stupid questions. So he walked as fast as he could without it being classified as a run and headed for the diner.

Once it was in sight it was so, so hard not to run. So very hard. He saw his Baby and darted toward her.

"Alright, Baby," He whispered. "Where'd Sammy go?" Sam had parked by the alley behind the diner. Ya know, those places where they dump the garbage?

He walked over to it, looking at the ground. He saw something shining on the ground. He bent down. His car keys. He pocketed them and continued down the alley. He saw something else. A small red puddle that had dried onto the pavement. Blood.

"Sammy." He whispered, fear filling him so fast it almost overwhelmed him. He went back to the Impala, started the engine and tore out of the parking lot. He'd memorized where Sam's phone was and he was headed there now, thirty miles above the speed limit. He didn't care. He dared a cop to pull him over. He'd leave them without a face.

He drove, and drove, and drove. And three hours later he reached his destination. He walked into the clearing that was surrounded by dense woods, flipping his phone open and calling Sam. He listened for a ring. Listened with all his might.

The only sound that was around him was birds and your average forest noises. But after the tenth ring and the thirtieth step, he heard a synthetic ringing. Sam's phone. He ran toward the noise, hoping that Sam would be with his phone.

His hopes were thrown into a dark abyss when he picked the phone up off the ground. He looked around.

"Sammy, where are you?" He asked to open air, his voice shaking. He was supposed to watch Sammy, take care of him, keep him safe. And now he was gone. He was scared. So very scared that someone had taken Sam and was going to hurt him. Or had already hurt him. Sam sounded so scared on the phone, and it made Dean want to scream.

He continued to walk, looking for something, anything that might take him to Sam.

That's when he saw the house. The dingy looking house that looked like it had been here since Laura Ingalls was a kid.

Hope jolted through him. He ran to it, drawing the gun from his waistband just in case. He gripped the doorknob and was unsurprised to feel it turn in his hand. The air was stale and thick with dust. It didn't look like anyone had been here for years. And he doubted that anyone _was_ here.

Until he heard the screaming. He went numb, his body turned to ice and his face went white.

"No." He ran toward the source of the noise, trying to find a door that led to it. He ripped each one open one by one, finding no one. Then he found the door to the basement. He walked silently down them, closing his eyes at the sounds the person was making below.

A stair creaked. He stiffened. The cries died down a little and he heard someone running in the opposite direction. He descended the rest of the stairs in milliseconds. But by the time his feet touched the basement floor the person was gone, and the person who was screaming was still there.

"Sammy." Bile rose to the back of his throat against his will.

He was strapped down to a wooden table with the same kind of restraints they use in asylums, his breath came in quick gasps, his eyes stayed closed, and his naked body trembled almost violently.

Dean swallowed and went to him, undoing the straps around his wrists and ankles. His ankles were slashed. Dean swallowed again. He undid the strap across his chest, trying not to look at the cuts and bruises that decorated his body.

Sam was whimpering, and he pulled away when Dean touched his face. "Mmmn!" He shook his head, trying to get away from him. He struck out at Dean weakly. Dean held his wrists and pushed his arms down with extremely little effort. It scared him.

"Sammy, Sammy, it's alright!" He assured. "Look at me, Sammy. Look at me," The younger Winchester's eyes opened slowly. "It's me, Sammy. It's me."

"Uhn." Sam breathed, touching his brother's arm. Dean gathered him in his arms, hugging him tightly. Sam sobbed into his chest, clinging to him as tightly as he could.

"Shh…it's okay, Sammy. It's okay, shhh…"

"De…De…" Sam cried, his voice strangled. Dean lifted his chin.

"Why can't you talk, Sammy?" He asked. Sam lifted his arm. There were track marks from needles on in the crook of his arm. Dean shut his eyes and hugged Sam a little tighter.

"He drugged you?" Sam nodded feebly. "Do you know what he gave you?" Sam shook his head. Dean sighed. "Okay, okay, I'm gonna get you out of here, Sammy. I'm gonna get you home." He took off his jacket and draped it over him, giving his little brother at least some shred of dignity.

"C'mon, Sammy." He hoisted Sam up, supporting the majority of his weight.

"Uhn…" Sam moaned.

"I know, Sammy. Don't try and walk, okay?"

The walk to the Impala was excruciating for the both of them. Sam tried to help Dean as much as he could, but the cuts on his ankles made it almost impossible. Dean hated that Sam was hurt and he kept hurting him.

He opened the back door of the Impala, laying Sam down as easily as possible. He reached under the seat and pulled out the blanket they kept for emergencies. Emergencies like this one.

He covered Sam up, pulling the blanket up to his chin. He folded his jacket and put it under his head. He rubbed Sam's forehead, brushing his bangs out of his face.

_Fever._ He thought bitterly.

"It's gonna be awhile before we get there, Sammy," He said. Sam nodded feebly. "You're gonna be okay, alright? Just hang on for awhile. Just hang on," He took a deep breath. "I'm gonna be right up there, okay?" Sam nodded again, weaker than the first.

His world had been fuzzy for the past several hours. He'd been unable to think about anything else other than the pain and torture that had been inflicted on him. Dean touched his face again before he disappeared from sight. Sam hated the look on his face. He was pale, his eyes wide, filled with frustration, fear, sadness, and self loathing. Sam hated that look a lot.

The car started and started to move. Dean turned the heater on and pointed the vents toward the back seat. Sam listened to the deep rumble of the car, subconsciously wondering why there wasn't any music playing. But slowly, the dull purring made his eyes grow heavier and heavier, before he gave into the darkness.

***

The bright light overhead made it hard to see. He tried to lift his arm to cover his eyes but nothing happened. His arm rose about six inches before they wouldn't go any farther. His ankles were the same way. There was something across his chest, right where his sternum ended and his stomach began, holding him there.

Someone was next to him, looking down at him. He couldn't make them out, or anything else. He blinked, trying to clear away the thick fog in front of his eyes. His chest was tight, and it wasn't from the strap there.

The person touched his face. He jerked away. The person moved away. The light was _so_ bright. He couldn't see. It made him squint.

The person was back, this time with scissors. Sam stared at them, terrified at what they might do. They started cutting his shirt off. The cold blades scraped against his skin. He tried to speak, tried to say anything, but all that came out was noise.

"Nnnn!" He moaned, trying to wriggle away from him. His shirt was removed. His breath quickened when the man removed his belt.

The blade slipped up the leg of his jeans, slicing through the denim with ease. No matter how hard he tried he couldn't get away. He could barely move. He was trembling when the blade slid up his leg, cutting into his boxers.

"Mmm hmm hm!" He whimpered, shaking his head. The useless material slipped off of him, revealing him. He watched the man, waiting for him to do something else.

His ankles ached terribly from where he cut them, making him fall and easy to drag away. The duck tape he had clamped over his mouth had been ripped away.

_Dean, Dean, help me. Please…_ Dean would notice that he was gone too long. Dean would come for him soon. Dean would save him. Dean would save him. Dean would save him…

The man touched his face again. He jerked away again. He could see just a little clearer now. He was less dizzy.

"Wh…what d-do you wa…want?" He asked. The man turned his back to him. "Wh-what d-do you wa- Uhn!" He watched the syringe go into his arm, emptying its contents into his bloodstream. He didn't know what it was. But he felt what it was doing seconds later. His vision swirled, his stomach turned, and it got really hard to breathe very quickly. The light went off. A door shut. He drifted away.

***

"MMM HMM HMMNN!" He moaned, arcing his back off of the hard table. The light swirled with the ceiling. The knife came back at him again. Tears slipped down his face, his hands and ankles were tense against the restraints. "UHH, AHHH!" He screamed. "DEE-EEAANN!"

Where was he? Why hadn't he saved him yet?

_Help me, Dean, please, please, please…_

"NNOOO!" He squirmed, desperate to get away from it. There was no escape. "UHNN! AAGH!"

But the knife didn't quit. It wouldn't. It couldn't.

And by the time it was done he was drenched in his own blood.

***

The light came on again, making stars dance before his eyes. He was blind for a moment, his tear swollen eyes only partially open. Something brushed against his stomach. He tried to move. Something pinched his arm, another dose of the drug he was giving him.

"Mmnnn…" He whimpered. He was touched again. He shook his head. "Hmmn!"

It was-

***

"Sammy," Sam opened his eyes, gasping. "Hey, it's okay, easy…" Dean soothed, easing Sam back down. They were still in the car, but the car had stopped. Sam looked out the window. They were at a deserted gas station. A water bottle was gently pushed to his lips. He drank, the liquid soothing his ravaged throat.

"Sammy, can I take you to the hospital?" Dean asked. He shook his head, closing his eyes. A tear slipped out from under one.

"Okay, okay, Sammy. I won't, I won't. Don't cry, okay?" Dean soothed. He hugged him again. Sam gripped him tightly. "Shh… We'll be there in ten minutes, okay?" Sam nodded. Dean held his trembling brother, smoothing his hair.

Sam started to shake harder. And harder. And harder until it was a downright seizure.

"Sam!" Dean held him tighter, constricting him to his chest so he couldn't hurt himself. Sam made no sound, which scared Dean, very much. It was over less than a minute later. Sam went limp in his arms, gasping between sobs. "God, Sam," Dean breathed. "I have to take you to a hospital, okay?" Sam looked up at him. God, Dean hated those puppy dog eyes at times like these. "I don't want to, Sammy, but I have to. Don't look at me like that," He lied Sam back down, rubbing his forehead. "I'm sorry, Sammy. I don't know what that drug's gonna do to you. I have to take you to the hospital." Sam swallowed and nodded.

Dean shut the car door and sprinted to the driver's seat, throwing the car in drive.

Sam trembled underneath the blanket. He didn't want to go to the hospital. If he went to the hospital they would know…and Dean would know. He started to cry.

"It's okay, Sammy, we'll be there soon."

tbc...


	2. Chapter 2

**The Nightmare Before Midnight**

The last doctor walked away from Dean. He'd spent the last hour answering their stupid questions, telling them over and over again that he didn't know who did this to his brother. And he had punched one doctor in the face when he accused him of doing this.

Sam had been hauled off to the ER before Dean could even register what was happening. He had intended to follow him, but he was ambushed by doctors. Sam had been screaming Dean's name, and he did everything in his power to get to him. But there were too many. By now they wouldn't let him near Sam because of the tests they were doing on him. The thoughts of their cold detached hands poking and prodding at his brother made him want to puke, but there was nothing he could do about it.

He sat down in the waiting room, his throat dry, his hands shaking. He just wanted to see him. Just to tell him that he didn't mean to leave him, he didn't mean to let him be alone.

God his eyes, his eyes were so wide, so terrified.

Tears pricked at the corners of his eyes. He buried his face in his hands.

"I'm so sorry, Sammy."

***

Sam wriggled under the doctor's grip, closing his eyes and moaning. They were all around him. Their white clothes, their blank faces, and they wouldn't stop touching him. A needle went into his arm and he screamed bloody murder. The doctors held him down tighter.

"DEAN! DEAN! DEEE-AAANN!" He screamed. Another needle. Another blood-curdling scream.

"Hey!" A voice snapped through the throng of men. "Get your hands off that poor boy." The hands released him. He shook on the now sweat soaked bed, trying to contain his sobs.

The owner of the voice stepped forward. She was an older black woman, her face and eyes kind and gentle when she looked at him, and hard as nails as she glared at the other doctors.

"What is wrong with you?!" She bellowed.

"We were just following procedure-"

"I don't give a damn if you were following the Geneva Convention! Can't you idiots see that this boy's been hurt? He don't care what you're doin' he just knows it hurts. You get outta here now, go on, shoo! Me an' Heidi'll take care of this. Go wash the bedpans or somethin'."

She turned back to Sam, who's breath was still shaking.

"P-please-" He gulped.

"Shh…easy honey, it's alright. I'm not gonna hurt ya like those buffoons," She gently took his hand. "What's your name, baby?"

"Sam."

"Okay, Sam, my name's Ruth. I'm gonna take care of you, okay?" She looked down at Sam's arm, at the track marks, and frowned.

"No…" Sam said. "Don't…drugs…"

"You don't do drugs?" She said. He shook his head. "So, someone drugged you?" He nodded. She smiled sadly at him. "Alright, Heidi hand me that needle, would ya? Thank you, honey." She moved the needle toward Sam's arm. He tensed.

"No, n-no…please!"

"Shhh, it's alright. I'm not gonna hurt ya. I need to take a blood sample to see what he gave you, baby." She assured. Sam shut his eyes and hissed when he felt the needle go in, trying to convince himself that this wasn't going to hurt him.

"There, all done," She said. "Now, I have to look you over to see how hurt you are, but I can give you a sedative an' you'll just go right to sleep."

"D-Dean." He whispered.

"He'll be there when you wake up, I promise." She said. He nodded, accepting her offer. Moments later he drifted off to sleep.

***

"I'm looking for someone named Dean."

Dean looked up and stood, his back creaking from being in the same position for so long.

"I'm Dean." He said, walking over to the woman.

"I'm Dr. Jansen, I examined your brother."

Examined, Dean hated that word. Made it sound like Sam was a piece in a museum.

"And?" Dean prompted. "Is he gonna be alright?"

"He's got some pretty deep cuts and one of his ribs is fractured. The drug the guy gave your brother was Ketamine. Very common drug, mostly used for date rapes. I wouldn't be surprised if he forgot everything that happened. It happens in most cases…and I'd hate to think that that poor baby has to remember…" She shook her head. "The convulsions were a side affect from the drug. And he was throwin' up earlier, but he's alright now."

"Is that all?" Dean asked, weary. Dr. Jansen pursed her lips, looking at the floor.

"Honey…You're not gonna like this one bit. Not one. You might scream, you might hit me, but I have to tell you."

"What?" Dean said quickly.

"Your brother…your brother was sexually assaulted."

The noise around him faded, his throat closed and his stomach turned to ice and plummeted. His face went white and his hands started to shake.

"You're lying," He said quietly. "You're lying!"

"I wish I was, baby."

Dean turned away from her, shaking his head, tears in his eyes.

"No, not Sammy, anyone but Sammy…" He whispered. "Can I see him?" He asked more loudly.

"Yes, we moved him to a room. I wanna keep him overnight just to make sure he's okay." She said. She turned and walked down the hallway, he followed her in a daze.

Halfway down the long hall, Dean grabbed a trash can and threw up.

***

Dean walked in Sam's room, ignoring what Dr. Jansen was saying to him. She walked out of the room, leaving Dean alone with his unconscious brother. He sat down in the chair next to Sam's bed, resting his elbows on his knees and bowing his head.

"It was supposed to be me, Sammy. You weren't even supposed to be out last night, I was! You aren't supposed to be in that bed, I am! I'm so sorry, Sammy. I'm so sorry."

Sam stirred. Dean took his hand in his own. Sam's eyes flickered open.

"Dean." He rasped. Dean tried to smile.

"Hey, Sammy." He should have known better than to try and hide from his brother. Sam's brow creased.

"What…What did they tell you…Dean?" He asked. He sounded a little scared. Dean didn't blame him.

"They, uh, they told me that the drug the guy gave you was Ketamine."

"The date… rape drug?"

"Yeah," Dean nodded. He hesitated on his next question. "Sam, do you remember what happened?" Sam nodded, close to shuddering. Dean shut his eyes, taking a deep breath. "Sammy did he, did…did he touch you?" Tears sprang in his little brother's eyes in a blink. He started shaking, his eyes adverted Dean's. He nodded.

"Y-yes." Dean moved onto the bed, trying to figure out what to do next.

"Sammy-"

Sam started to cry softly. Dean hugged Sam to him. Sam sobbed uncontrollably, trembling in Dean's arms.

"I'm…s-sorry, D-Dean." He whimpered.

"Why are you sorry?"

"I t-tried to f-f-fight him…but, but I c-couldn't m-move. I tr-tried so ha-hard, Dean. I tr-tried."

Dean swallowed the lump in his throat.

"Shh…no, Sammy, it's not your fault, ok? It's not." Sam continued to cry. Dean shifted positions, putting his back on the pillows and still holding Sam to his chest. Sam curled against him, clutching his shirt in his fingers, trembling.

He tried to stop that memory from coming back, but it was no use. Right now, he was barely strong enough to hang on to his big brother.

***

The light came on again, making stars dance before his eyes. He was blind for a moment, his tear swollen eyes only partially open. Something brushed against his stomach. He tried to move. Something pinched his arm, another dose of the drug he was giving him.

"Mmnnn…" He whimpered. He was touched again. He shook his head. "Hmmn!"

It was the man's hands. And they grew less and less tentative as the moments dragged on. He squirmed, but it was a weak effort.

The man was on top of him soon, still covering his body with touches.

"Mm hmmm mmnnn!" Sam moaned. The man held his arms down, his knees on Sam's thighs so there was no way for him to escape. Not that Sam could if he tried.

He was vulnerable, exposed to this man, and at his mercy. He could do whatever he wanted and there would be nothing he could do about it. Including this. Hard lips pressed to his throat, kissing, sucking, biting.

"UHHN!" Sam screamed. The man took his lips away. Sam felt something warm and wet drag its way up his chest. A tongue, he realized too late. It raked over his neck and up the side of his face.

"NNNNOOOO!" He screamed, jerking his head away but gaining nothing. Rough hands touched tender flesh. He whimpered. They moved down farther. Sam whimpered in protest, shaking his head violently back and forth.

"NUAH!"

Sam could fight no longer when the man penetrated him. He felt so humiliated, so used, so…so naked.

He sobbed, trying to form the words to beg. A hand was wrapped around his throat, squeezing, tight, too tight.

There was a creak on the stairs. The man stiffened. Seconds later the man was off of him. Sam shut his eyes, uncaring where it was the man went. He was just happy he was away from him.

Someone undid the straps on his wrists.

_Oh, god, what's he gonna do to me?_

His ankles came undone.

_Dean help me, please, please, big brother, save me! Where are you? Help me, PLEASE!_

The strap over his chest was taken off.

_Oh god…_

Someone touched his face. He kept his eyes firmly shut, pulling away from the hand.

"Mmmn!" He moaned. He shook his head again, knowing the man wouldn't listen. He tried to hit him, but his arms would only go so far. Hands pushed them back down.

_God not again!_

"Sammy, Sammy, it's alright!" That voice. Sammy…Who called him Sammy? "Look at me, Sammy. Look at me." No, it couldn't be true. It was a trick. It was a lie, a hallucination, something! It couldn't be…

He let his eyes open. His vision swirled and the fog was thick, but he saw the necklace pendant dangling by his shoulder. "It's me, Sammy. It's me."

"Uhn." He couldn't believe it. No, he wouldn't believe it. He grabbed at his arm, feeling him to make sure he was really there. And it wasn't until he was pressed against his chest that Sam understood. His Calvary had come at last. Sam cried, breathing in the leather smell that was home, familiar, safe. His savior was here. The nightmare was over.

***

"Hey, hey, it's alright, Sammy. Shhh…" Dean soothed, smoothing his baby brother's hair. He couldn't believe how small Sam felt, how fragile, like a child. "It's okay…it's gonna be alright."

"D-Dean…" Sam sobbed, burying his face deeper in Dean's chest.

"Shh…I'm here."

"Don't l-leave…me." He begged. With every tear that Sam cried Dean's heart broke a little more.

"I'm not goin' anywhere. I'm right here, Sammy. Right here. I'll be here as long as you need me."

He could see it now, the dark bruises around Sam's neck that were shaped like fingers. He rested his cheek on top of Sam's head, his tears seeping into his hair.

"I'm gonna find who did this, Sammy," He said through gritted teeth. "And I'm gonna tear him apart. With my bear hands. I swear to God, I will." Sam hugged him a little tighter.

"No one's gonna hurt you anymore," He said. "I promise. You're gonna be okay. It's gonna go away, Sammy. I promise. It'll go away."

Sam sniffed, keeping his face hidden. He fell asleep hours later, and Dean did as well, holding him. He woke up at some point in the night to hear Sam whimpering in his sleep.

He hugged him and whispered that it was alright, that he was safe, and that he was there. Sam calmed a few minutes later, falling back into a deep sleep.

Dean tried to forget the image of finding Sam in that basement. The look on his face, how he was trembling so hard, how he couldn't speak, or see straight. And his eyes. The way he looked at Dean when his eyes opened; the agony he felt in his heart and in his gut was overwhelming. He looked down at his sleeping brother, who's fingers were clinging to him so tightly his knuckles were white. Dean brushed his bangs out of his face, like he had since Sam was little.

He dared not to let Sam go, and he didn't care what any doctor would tell him. The IV in Sam's arm was still there. His heart rate was normal. He wasn't doing anything wrong.

He felt awful for what he had let happen to him. Sam had been tortured and raped because Dean had griped about going to get food. Tears stung his eyes again. Sam's peaceful face made him remember that he already had so much to atone for already. He had mutilated so many people in Hell, and he might as well have done this to his brother. The one he was supposed to protect.

The awful nightmares reliving his time in perdition were more than he deserved. And he would take them, now. He had no right to fight them. And this, this just made it so.

After this he deserved the biggest beating his father could have dished out and forty more years down under. Forty more years of Alastair and his buddies tearing into him in unspeakable ways. And this time there would be no way out. This time there would be no offer for him to start torturing. No, he would have to endure. And when he got out, Sam would never speak to him again. He would tell him he hated him and walk away. Dean would spend the rest of his life alone. And it would be more than he deserved.

That's what he deserved to endure for this. He fell back to sleep and dreamed of Hell.

***

"Can you give this to Dean Winchester as soon as he's available?" She said, handing the envelope to the woman behind the counter. The woman smiled and nodded. "Thank you." She turned and walked out of the hospital, her smile turning cold and malicious.  
"Did you do it?" He asked, coming up next to her. She grinned.

"Of course I did. Making their lives miserable is like cocaine to me."

"Excellent work, Meg. Your father would be proud." Her grin broadened.

"He was always so fond of you, Alastair," She said. "I owe you the favor."

"Well, your services are no longer needed, but I thank you, dear." Alastair said.

"Well, let me know how it turns out. Winchester pain and suffering always makes me feel so warm and fuzzy inside." She giggled. She walked away from him. Alastair turned back to the hospital, grinning.

He hadn't intended for Sam to be the one he captured, it was meant for Dean. But when he learned that the demon he had hired to both kidnap and torture him that he had Sam and not Dean, well it was just an opportunity Alastair couldn't pass up.

He had cut up the youngest Winchester, relishing his screams. He'd gotten the whole set now. All three Winchester's had been under his power now. He shut his eyes, sighing at such a delightful thought.

He'd left when that was done. He had no idea what his mindless moron had done with him after that, but apparently it was pretty bad.

He walked away, hoping that Dean would get his message.

Tbc…

--There should only be one more chap! Until then, feedback, please!--


	3. Chapter 3

**The Nightmare Before Midnight**

Dean got the envelope from the front desk, but didn't pay any attention to it. He'd completely forgotten about it actually. He was focused on his little brother.

Sam as released from the hospital earlier that day. He wasn't supposed to walk for at least another twenty four hours. The son of a bitch that took him hadn't cut through to the tendons, thank god, but he had gotten really close. He was on mild pain killers that he took twice a day. And they knocked him out for four hours straight after every dose.

Dean sat down in on the bed opposite his brother's, eighteenth cup of coffee in hand. He swallowed a mouthful, watching his sleeping baby brother.

He called Bobby an hour ago and told him what was happening. He said he was on his way.

Dean was sure the people that took Sam were the same ones that had taken him two months ago. Or at least it was connected.

Sam jerked in his sleep, his face screwing up in discomfort. He whimpered. Dean went to him instantly, cupping his cheek in his palm.

"Shh…It's okay, Sammy. Shh…" He knew how bad nightmares could be. He knew what they could do to a person. "Shh…It's alright."

"Dean…" Sam moaned.

"I'm here, Sammy, I'm here. Sh…" Sam calmed, his features smoothing, his breath relaxing. Dean sighed, looking down at him.

"Dean." A voice said behind him. He spun around, his body tense and ready to strike out and anything.

"Cas?" He said. The angel looked at Sam, his forehead creasing.

"What happened?" He asked. Dean swallowed, turning his head away from Sam.

"Someone took him and did this to him." He said.

"Do you know who took him?" Castiel asked. Dean shook his head, standing and grabbing his coffee cup to go refill it.

He froze halfway there and whipped around, his face a mixture of raw begging and desperation.

"Cas, can…can you heal him? Like you healed me?" He asked softly.

Castiel felt his heart ache at Dean's plea.

"Dean…I can't." He said regrettably. Dean wilted, his face becoming even more vulnerable.

"Why?" He whispered.

"Because…Because of Sam's blood." Castiel admitted. Dean shut his eyes, sadness and frustration deep in his face.

"Why should he have to suffer and I didn't?" He asked. Castiel bowed his head. His initial response would have been: "The lord works in mysterious ways." But Dean would most likely hit him in the state he was in. He filled his coffee cup and drained it in one gulp before he sat down on the bed again.

Castiel said nothing. He kept his eyes on the overly stained floor. Dean was exhausted. The circles under his eyes were a very dark brown. His eye lids were a light shade of purple, his face pale and gaunt. For the second time in two months, Castiel could see how old Dean truly was.

"Dean, Sam will be alright." He assured.

"He's not even supposed to be hurt right now, Cas. I am. It was my food run…and I asked him to go instead. I told him I would get the next two," He laughed ruefully, hating himself. "And then this happens," Dean looked up at the angel, his face naked. "How am I supposed to look at him now?"

Castiel bowed his head, unable to look his charge in the eye.

"I don't know, Dean. I know what you're feeling right now, but I do not understand it. I wish I did. Then I might be of some use…though I have no idea what." He ended quietly.

"Dean…" Sam whimpered. Dean winced, tears in his eyes.

"Shh…I'm here, Sammy. I'm here. Shhh…" Sam quieted and leaned into Dean's soothing hand.

"Do you have any idea who might have done this?" Castiel asked.

"It might have been the same people that took me," He said. "But I have no way to prove that."

"You found nothing when you found Sam?"

"No. I didn't even get a look at the guy who did it," Dean's eyes suddenly widened in realization. "The envelope." He whispered.

"What envelope?" Dean ran over to the chair in the corner and snatched up his leather jacket, reaching in the inside pocket and ripping through the flimsy paper.

"That son of a bitch," Dean hissed through his teeth, his eyes scanning the paper. "That fuckin' son of a bitch!"

"What's wrong?" Dean shoved the paper at Castiel, dropping onto the bed opposite Sam, his face in his hands.

_Thanks for giving me your brother, boy. He sure was fun to play with. It's a funny world we live in. I got to torture all three of you Winchesters. And one didn't even have to go to Hell for it. You better tell that angel that if he and his friends don't back down and let the inevitable happen, it's gonna get ugly. Uglier than it already has been. _

_Hope Sammy's doing well. _

_Best regards,_

_Alastair_

Castiel dropped the letter as if it had burned him. He didn't understand. Alastair's words could have been taken as kind. But…coming from a man so evil, it didn't make any sense. But he understood why Dean was so angry. The letter was a mockery.

"What are you going to do?" He asked. Dean shook his head.

"I have no idea." He mumbled.

"Or we should surrender, like Alastair wants." Dean glared up at him.

"Don't you go talking like that, not now," He stood. "Not when I need something to hang onto. I need a reason to fight. You're the one that always told me we have to. I need you to stick with that…Please."

That raw begging was there again. Castiel felt his heart give a painful jolt.

"Okay. Then we'll keep fighting," He said. "For now, you should rest. You look terrible." He said bluntly. Dean nodded. A blink later and Castiel was gone. Another ten minutes, and Dean was asleep.

* * *

Dean sat bolt upright, sensing something was wrong. He looked wildly around the room. His eyes came to rest on his brother's bed. His brother's empty bed. He stood instantly, his heart pounding in fear.

"Sammy?" His voice came out as a rasp. He looked toward the bathroom. The door was shut, the light was on underneath, and a great deal amount of steam was billowing from under it. Dean's brow creased and he bolted toward it, noting that the clock to his left said 2:45 am.

The knob twisted in his hand and he shoved the door open.

He got a lungful of steam and a face full of fog when he did, and it took a moment before he could see anything.

"Sammy?" He coughed. He heard whimpering. He walked toward the shower, trying to see the figure through all the steam. But the smoke was clearing fast. Sam was huddled under the stream of boiling water, his skin bright red and raw. He was still scrubbing at it vigorously with his hands. "Sammy!" Dean knelt down, trying to hold his brother's wrists. "Sammy, stop! Stop, stop it," He held Sam's arms tight, folding them to his chest. "Hey," Sam looked at him, only half awake, half lucid and completely terrified. "It's okay, it's okay. What the hell are you doin'?" Sam started to shiver.

"I can't get him off, D-Dean," He stuttered. "I c-can't get him off." Dean shut the water off. Sam started to shake harder at the sudden coolness around him. Dean hugged him, knowing he was getting soaked.

"Shhh…It's gonna be okay, Sammy. You'll get him off. One day you will. You'll get him off." Sam sobbed against his brother, that same helpless, vulnerable, naked feeling washing over him again.

"C'mon, Sammy," Dean said quietly. "You need to rest, c'mon."

Dean got him dry and got him dressed.

"Alright, lie down, Sammy." He said gently, easing him down onto the bed. Sam wrapped his arms around Dean's shoulders, gripping them tightly, when Dean started to back away.

"D-don't go." He begged softly. Dean winced, swallowing hard. He hugged his baby brother and once again did so all night.

That was the last incident Sam had. He was normal in a few days, and able to walk in another week. Dean was happy. But he couldn't help but think about what Alastair could possibly do next. If he only knew.

**END**

--K, that's all the hurt!Sam from me. But there's probably one more to the boredom chronicles...In the meantime, feedback!--


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